


Red

by shewearsglasses



Series: Bat City [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewearsglasses/pseuds/shewearsglasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harleen can't seem to stop looking at the pretty redhead across the library. She'd better not be straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> Published and edited in January 2014.
> 
> Somewhat of a re-telling of "Insanity and Co." but with romance instead of friendship.

Her hair's held back by a tight band that pulls uncomfortably on the locks. She scratches at the back of her neck every few minutes to ease the tension, her slender fingers dancing across skin that probably feels just as soft as it looks. Harleen looks on in awe as she finally reaches the height of irritation; her fingers divert their attention from her neck and grasp the bun in one hand, the other loops a finger or two under the band and pulls.

Red waves cascade down her back seemingly in slow motion. It's as if this woman is giving Harleen her own private show, leaning back and winking like a porn star before gesturing her forward. Harleen stops herself a second before her feet actually begin moving, remembering reality just as the woman turns to glance at the clock. A clock which just so happens to lie on the wall directly above Harleen's head. She freezes as green eyes lock with her own, the eye contact only lasts a second, but the sea of green washes over Harleen like a waterfall, drowning her in endless emerald pools.

And the woman looks back down at her book. Her fingers scratching mindlessly at her left forearm as the eyes Harleen will probably see in her dreams tonight flash across the page with disinterest. A couple more books are piled to her left, titles too small for her to read from her position about 20 feet away. Obviously this woman is in some form of school, medical, maybe?

"Who's the new lady?" A voice prompts from her right and Harleen nearly jumps from her seat.

"Jay!"

"She's awfully plain for an unusual creature like you." His voice is low, taunting. His fingers brush the edge of her jaw as he speaks, "Don't you think, Harley?"

"Aw," she leans back in her chair, eyes twinkling. "Don't encourage me, Jay! You know it'll only boost my ever-growing ego!"

Jay steps back, tugging a chair out from under someone's feet to pull it up to the table. He ignores the indignant "hey!" tossed at his back, brushing the insults and roars off his shoulder with a swift hand gesture, almost as though the thrown words were anything more than a metaphor. His hands rest underneath his chin and he eyes the red-head across the library with something akin to curiosity. Then, "She is quite the beauty actually."

His words are sobering, and Harleen's shoulders droop as his eyes grow darker and more inquisitive, "Maybe I should have a go first, ay? See if she's into the manly type?"

Harleen nods, watching as he struts off toward the object of her desire. He stops in front of her, just far enough away that Harleen can make out the sound of his voice over the white noise, but not the specific words. His lips tilt into a wide grin, nothing short of charming in Harleen's eyes. He's got her, and Harleen knows it. Harleen will never see the likes of this charming scientist-lady if Jay can help it.

The woman gives pause, finger moving to a stop on the page as if marking it to pick up later. Slowly, her eyes slide from Jay's obnoxious blue oxfords all the way up to the green tint of his dyed hair. The unimpressed look on her face brightens to a smile, and her lips open in response to whatever pick-up line he'd spouted off.

Harleen slides further down in her chair, chin resting on the table in defeat.  _Straight_. Why do they always gotta be straight? Her forehead touches the cool metal of the table and she frowns against the undoubtedly revolting surface.

But then a sound like a slap and the woman is standing. By the time Harleen sits up, a pink mark stains Jays pale cheek like a bad rash. The woman spits something at him from under her breath. She collects her books, positioning them under her arm and storming off... but somehow she still looks elegant. Even in her rage.

Harleen is left staring open-mouthed after the woman like a fish without air. This is the position Jay finds her in when he saunters back; she notices his "swag" is still successfully intact.

His story is something about how she'd seen a mosquito on his face, and had run off in such a fluster because of her forwardness. "She'd be back," he'd said with a smug smirk. Harleen only gritted her teeth in an effort not to respond, waving her hand as he left in a dash.

She shakes her head with a laughing breath; Jay was such an asshole sometimes.

On her way out the door, she ponders the words the woman might have said to turn him away. Maybe there was hope; maybe she wasn't straight after all. The simple thought instills a sense of confidence in Harleen's stomach. The feeling bubbles over until she is smothered by her own desires. The red-head would walk up to her, lips quirked and stained red by that dangerous lip-stick buried at the bottom of her purse. A pause, she'd whisper in Harleen's ear, something deliciously salacious. Harleen would gasp, breath lingering against the red-head's cheek as the woman tilted her head closer.

Harleen whips her head around, glancing behind her to check if anyone had seen her brief escape into fantasy. No one is staring at her any harder than usual, so Harleen assumes she remains inconspicuous. Grinning like a fool, Harleen skips out of the library as if she's just won a prize.

 

* * *

 

When she returns the next day, hope caught in her throat like a cold she just can't shake, the woman is missing from the spot. She stops in place, blocking a few angry patrons from leaving. They bump her aside, muttering a few choice words under their breaths.

She sighs long and loudly, nearly grinning when she notices the noise has caught the attention of a pretty brunette by the check-out desk. The dark-haired vixen has hair to her shoulders and a smirk that rivals even Jays. She winks at Harleen, sending a rush of confidence through the woman faster than a bullet. Waving, Harleen slumps unceremoniously against the chair the red-head had sat in the day before.

Harleen tugs a book or two from her bag. Their lewd covers attract the attention of the leering business man across the way, but she just rolls her eyes and cracks one open. The flirty brunette slips past her, a piece of paper containing 7 scribbled digits falls into Harleen's lap as she does so. Harleen grins, but allows the woman to leave. Her attractions rest elsewhere at the precise moment. But, she revels, typing the numbers into her phone, maybe if Red doesn't show up, the brunette would still be up for a good time.

The very woman sits in a chair to her left just as Harleen slides her phone closed. Her mouth drops open when she notices. She can barely pull her eyes from the woman's curvy hips long enough to make eye contact. The woman is staring, Harleen realizes, cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

"Hello," the woman greets, lips tilting up into a smile that will visit Harleen's dreams for many days to come. Harleen squeaks out some embarrassing reply, and the woman's lips slide even further up. "Shouldn't you be studying, Harley?"

A noise that somehow manages to be even  _more_  embarrassing chokes its way out of Harleen's lips. "You know my name?"

"Of course," she says. The dark red that colors her lips today matches the scarlet of Harleen's skirt. "I'm your peer advisor, but you probably wouldn't know that as you haven't made an appointment since we met freshmen year."

"We—" Harleen tries to keep the stutter out of her voice, but fails miserably, "We've met?"

Red just nods, and pulls a large textbook from her messenger bag. The title has something to do with plants, and she must notice Harleen's staring because she says, "I'm a Botany major."

"Oh." Harleen is so eloquent.

Red nods distractedly, and opens up her bag again to retrieve a notebook and pen. "Yeah, switched from Biochemistry winter semester of sophomore year… Actually about a month after I was assigned to you guys."

"Are you allowed to do that?" As soon as the words tumble from her mouth, Harleen regrets them. She wants to fold her head in her hands and curl into a ball. Ugh.

Red just laughs, tilting her head as if to study Harleen. She puts a finger to her lips, smudging the lip-stick and leaving a red thumbprint behind on her jaw. She says, "I think your head advisor made an exception for me because I was following such a close field. Plus I'm pretty great." Had Harleen been less dumbstruck, she probably would've taken this moment to realize Red was flirting with her. Unfortunately, Harleen remains oblivious, and just tucks her hands underneath her legs and nods along like a child.

Red purses her lips, running her fingers along the cover of her textbook. It is obvious that she doesn't know how to continue, and Harleen is not exactly in a place to help her. "So…" Red blows her bangs from her face, and then when Harleen still doesn't move to speak, opens her book. She isn't a sentence into trying to study the awkward away, when Harleen blurts out, "What's your name?"

Smooth. Very smooth.

Red snorts through her nose, as eloquent as Harleen, it seems. They would get along splendidly. "Is that why you've been staring at me for the past week? Because you didn't know my name?"

Harleen freezes in place, "you knew?"

Red nods vigorously, "I even thought you sent Mr. Dumbass over the other day as a way of awkwardly getting my number. I figured if middle school techniques were the best you could do, then who was I to judge?" Harleen is once again, dumbfounded. She blinks, suddenly adding up the bits and pieces of Red's story. She's gay… Or bisexual… Or whatever! The point is she's into chicks and Harleen now has a V-card that allows her access to Red's smile.

She grins, about to respond, but apparently Red's still talking. "Anyway, I'm Pamela. You can call me Pam, if you want."

"I want," Harleen coughs, nearly choking on the idiotic words she allowed to erupt from her mouth. "Excuse me, I would like that. I'm sorry—I, yes. I like you." Heat spreads across Harleen's cheeks like milk spilled across the floor, so slow you can practically watch it touch at every corner of her face.

Luckily Red—Pamela laughs. Harleen's smile is much faster acting, and it takes up every part of her face not already taken by the blush. "Good," Pamela says. Pamela's eyes are a glorious shade of green-blue in laughter. They're an ocean, complete with emeralds buried in the sand along the shore. Her hair, tucked behind her ears is a shade of red just darker than the blush that still coats Harleen's cheeks.

Pamela, Pam… Harleen ponders the name for a moment, still unsure as how to respond but liking where this is going. "I think—is it okay if I call you Red?"

There's a moment of silence, Pamela stares at Harleen for a beat. Her shining eyes glide over Harleen's face, taking everything in. Her mouth is parted, allowing Harleen a shy peek of the tongue tucked just behind her perfect teeth. Harleen swallows, and drags her eyes back up to meet Pamela's. Finally, Pamela—Red nods.


End file.
